


Pledge

by resonant_aura



Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: F/M, NSFW, doggy-style, kinkmeme prompt, obviously, practicing safe sex, sex with affection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-19
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-11-02 08:56:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10941168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/resonant_aura/pseuds/resonant_aura
Summary: In another corner of someone else's alternate canon (mine), Yusuke and Ann are in a relationship. They use their Sundays away from the PT company to relax and share some intimate free time. This is one such Sunday.





	Pledge

**Author's Note:**

> All recognizable intellectual property belongs to ATLUS/Sega. I just put clean sheets on the very comfortable bed. 
> 
> Originally this was a response to a prompt on the P5 kinkmeme over at dreamwidth. If you're reading this stuff you'd probably like other stuff thataway so go check it outttt. https://personakinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/993.html
> 
> As far as I know, these darlings are 16--which is the legal age of consent where I live, but probably not where they live. But they're also fictional. So PSA: don't have sex until you know what you're doing, always confirm verbal consent with all parties before doing anything, always practice safe sex.
> 
> Okay now here have 2800 words of shameless smut and friendship bye.

Ann is beautiful.

He never hesitates to say that. Ann is beautiful. He’s known that since the first time he saw her, descending into the mouth of the subway like Persephone disappearing into the underworld, he knew that before he even knew (or cared about) her name. But _everyone_ knows Ann is beautiful. It’s the first thing everyone says about her. Sometimes, it’s the only thing they say about her. Her perfectly smooth, unblemished skin, her thick flaxen hair, the proportion of her limbs, the gentle curve of her cheekbone… and those _eyes_ … Everybody sees that.

Of course, Yusuke is special. He knows she’s beautiful because he has been granted permission to see what others don’t.

“Harder, Yusuke,” she pants, blindly reaching back with one hand and scrabbling at his flank, nails losing purchase on his sweat-slick skin. He gasps, losing his rhythm, her desperate touch blasting his focus apart like light fragmenting through a prism. She keens and looks over her shoulder, eyes narrowed, heavy-lidded. “ _Harder.”_ She thrusts back into his hips, eager, baiting. His cock throbs, and he groans. Harder? Fine.

He grabs her by the hips with both hands, fingers curling around, digging into the bones of her, and takes a stance. It wouldn’t do to lose his balance and hurt her accidentally. He balances evenly on his knees on the mattress (overly soft, in his opinion), slowly draws his hips back, and then _plunges_.

She yelps, and then lets out a groan like the distant roar of a wild jungle cat. Her head drops forward into the pillow she’s clutching, the little softly curling hairs at her nape now dark with sweat. “Yessss,” she hisses, arching her back, shifting the angle. Yusuke sees stars behind his closed eyes, sees streaks of divine color. She doesn’t know. She doesn’t know how amazing she feels, how he would do anything for her, how whenever he sees her with her eyes closed and mouth open drinking in her own ecstasy he feels like the ruler of some vast, passionate empire. He wants to reach out and stroke the tempting line of her spine, to drag his fingers through her long silky hair, but no—harder, Yusuke.

He keeps his grip on her hips, not quite hard enough to bruise, and _he fucks her._

She braces herself against the pillow, then against the headboard of her Western-style bed. It thumps and creaks with their fervent rocking, back and forth, in and out. They’re both breathing hard, panting in time with his thrusts. Neither of them have ever been successful at staying quiet in bed. He grunts with every especially hard thrust, groans when the angle is perfect and he feels every single inch of her sliding along his cock, and he’s never been able to help himself—he has to tell her, murmurs breathlessly in words that are never quite enough, _you’re so beautiful, I want you, give in to it_. She’s wailing and growling into the pillow like a wild thing, incoherent, so far gone it’s almost frightening. But she throws one hand back and covers his hand with hers, twines their nerveless fingers together, and he knows she isn’t all that far gone after all. His grin is all fangs and delight, and he pauses, leans down to drape himself over her (all these curves and skin and how the light would look on her and _god_ ) and pulls her hair aside to press his lips to her ear: “ _Magnificent,_ Ann.”

She lifts her head from the pillow and laughs, and he _feels_ it, not just her pussy fluttering close and tight around him but the sheer pleasure that the sound of her joy ignites in him, a feedback loop of pleasure that shoots lightning-fast from his cock to the very root of him. He shudders and pulls back and thrusts forward and now she isn’t laughing, she’s gasping in tiny, high-pitched, wanton yelps, and he knows what’s coming next. “Yes,” he groans, changing his stride, he isn’t pounding into her and relying on pure power but lengthening his strokes, he’ll drown her in sensation, he’ll make her feel it in every single glorious blazing nerve, “yes, yes, Ann—”

“Yusuke—”

The very first time he watched her orgasm, he actually didn’t notice much. Ann was, occasionally, a screamer, and he had been so startled by her shriek and so terrified that he had harmed her that he couldn’t think of anything except shaking her out of it to make sure she was all right. Ann liked to remind him of that sometimes, when she was feeling especially mischievous.

Now he’s prepared, and Yusuke shakes the damp hair out of his eyes and moves to get a view of her face, still rutting lazily into her to keep up the momentum. She flushes more easily than anyone else he’s known. Her face glows with color, cheeks rosy, her blush continuing down her neck. He can’t see it now but he knows her breasts are speckled with pink and her nipples are peaked and swollen. As she falls over the precipice, her eyes squeeze shut, her brows pucker, her jaw clenches until it releases with the rest of her.

That expression—when she is most purely herself, freed from self-consciousness, unaware, losing all thought to overwhelming feeling— _that_ is when he sees her true beauty.

Yusuke stays with her, waiting for her to drift back down. He takes the opportunity to lean forward and kiss the expanse of her back, choosing random spots that appeal to him. Eventually Ann stirs beneath him, humming as she stretches, pulling him deeper inside her. He grunts; she giggles. “Mkay,” she says, her voice throaty and hoarse in a way that he is absolutely certain would suit Panther and her red latex very well, but that’s a thought for another day. “Your turn.”

She flips over.

He’s doomed.

The thing about sex face-to-face with Ann is that Yusuke is unable to escape the fact that he is vulnerable, exposed, and painfully aware of being intimately connected to another thinking, feeling, bleeding, breathing human being— _this_ human being, his battle companion and friend and lover, this gorgeous creature who appeared out of nowhere and dragged him into the light of a better world. Ann’s face is such a study in beauty. Not because of symmetry or color complements or anything else, but because when they’re like this she never attempts to hide what she’s feeling. She’s transparent, as is he, and yet when he looks into her eyes and finds nothing but warmth and tenderness, feels her small hands slide into his hair to cradle the back of his head and pull him in for a deep kiss, when he draws back and wants to curl up in the curve of her sweet, amused smile, he feels _safe_. So defenseless, the both of them, but they still lie there in comfortable union.

Sex with Ann makes him brave in a way no one else will understand.

“Yusuke,” she breathes, smiling up at him with her eyes and her lips and her heart, and he involuntarily thrusts once, twice, and comes, and there isn’t a goddamned thing he can do about it.

It’s lightning bolts and fireballs and being bathed in the healing light of a spell in Mementos, and it’s a warm bath at the end of a long day and the thrill of standing at the edge of a cliff, and it’s none of those things. It’s _always_ like this with her. It’s breathtaking. He gasps, then doesn’t, even his lungs locked down with the force of his climax. He’s even blind to her radiant smile as all sensation narrows to the pulsing heat in his cock, spilling out in liquid form into the condom sheath. He can still feel her walls clenching around him fitfully and it makes him cry out, muffled, into the sheets over her shoulder.

He coughs and puffs for breath, braces on his arms above her, trying to be discreet and move to one side because now the moment is fading and if he stays this close to her, well, she probably wants her space. Except today Ann doesn’t want space—she chuckles and throws her arms around his neck and yanks him down on top of her. “Oof—augh—Ann, what—”

“Well that was flattering,” she says, her voice bright with humor, but she nuzzles her nose into the side of his neck and plants a kiss there. If he were another person he might be embarrassed—but frankly, he doesn’t see why. To lose all self-control in the face of unadulterated beauty? That’s not an embarrassment, that’s an _accomplishment_.

She lets him go. He rolls to one side, still breathing hard (she has already recovered mostly), and smiles when she cuddles up into his side. Ann is sometimes a screamer—but she is _always_ a cuddler. “You okay?” she asks, voice already softened at the edges with sleep. It’s a Sunday; if they want to spend the rest of the day napping, curled up together in this bed with all this wonderful bare skin, they can. Probably. Yusuke glances guiltily towards his phone, lost in a pool of hastily ripped off clothing, and hopes the group hasn’t suddenly decided to go on a mission today.

“Yusuke?”

“Hm? Oh. Yes, I’m fine.”

Ann rises up on one elbow, giving him that quizzical, slightly worried look that says he’s done something weird again. He gestures vaguely towards their clothes puddled on the floor. “I was thinking of how lovely it would be to sleep here—and then I thought of our leader, trying to contact us.”

“Oh. Ew. Please don’t invite Akira in here.”

“I didn’t say I would,” Yusuke protests mildly as Ann reaches over the edge of the bed for the little trash can under her bedside table. “Although if we were to invite others to our—”

“Nope. Stop right there.”

“I’m just saying aesthetically—”

Ann swings herself up and over him, straddling his chest, and leans down to give him a peck on the mouth. “Just you,” she says, blushing again, and he is stunned into silence, slow-dawning affection a warm golden kernel of heat in his chest. She plunks the trash can on the bed and slides off of him. Gently she removes the condom from his softened penis, giving him a teasing squeeze as she does, and ties it off before tossing it in the can. Her hands rest on the edges of the can like pale butterfly wings; she stares into it, her lips turned down at the corners. “Um,” she starts, then clears her throat and tries again. “Yusuke… do you…”

She trails off. He waits, and when nothing more seems forthcoming, he draws his fingertip along her thigh. “Do I…?”

“Do you… think it’s wrong that we’re doing this?”

He frowns, confused. “Doing what?”

“Well…” Her blush deepens from a faint pink to a cherry red. “Th-This… uh, the, you know… with the no clothes and the touching and—”

“Oh. Sex.” She’s so cute when she gets suddenly shy. It’s not as splendid as when she’s in the throes of pleasure, but it’s endearing nevertheless. He chuckles. “I think it’s wonderful.”

Ann fidgets, her fingers closing and opening on the rim of the can. “That’s not what I asked, though.”

Yusuke blinks and sits up a little. Something is actually wrong now. “What did you mean, then?”

“I just wonder…” She shoots him an almost guilty look from under her lashes. “The others don’t know. About us. And… I wonder if maybe it’s wrong for us to be doing this without telling them. It seems like kind of a big thing, and I don’t—want to upset anyone. Or something.”

He doesn’t like how far away she is. He firmly replaces the trash bin on the ground and takes her by the wrists, pulling her inexorably into his embrace. She sits in the circle of his arms and looks thoroughly downtrodden, which is _not_ the way she should look after they had such a transcendent experience a few minutes ago. “Why would they be upset?”

She bites her lip, then huffs and looks away. “I dunno. Never mind, it’s stupid.”

“Ann.”

“Yusuke,” she echoes airily. He watches, and waits. She’s better with words than he is.

“I’m not afraid,” she blurts suddenly, eyes trained steadily someplace over Yusuke’s head. “I don’t—it’s not like I’m keeping it secret on purpose. I just… kinda… don’t wanna talk about it, yet. But I don’t want them to think I was afraid to tell them. You know? I don’t want to make anyone mad. But I’m still—” Her eyes finally land on his face, and he smiles. He sees some of the tension seep out of her shoulders. He gently rubs his thumbs up and down her wrists. “We’re still figuring this out, right?”

He nods. “I don’t think any one of our friends would be angry that we took our time, and wanted some privacy. We’ve all come to learn some of each other’s darkest secrets, after all. I don’t think this one will drive any of us apart. But,” he lifts one hand to stroke the line of her collarbone, then settles his palm on her shoulder, “why don’t we both resolve to tell them? At some point. Then we needn’t feel like we’re keeping a secret. We’re just waiting to tell them.”

“When do we tell them?”

“At some point.” Her hair has fallen out of its pigtails. The loose tendrils of it brush against his arm, and he smiles and twists them around. She huffs again.

“Yeah, but like, in a week? Two weeks, a month? Ten years from now?”

“At some point,” he replies tranquilly, his fingers drifting down, following the soft lines of her hair to the even softer outlines of her breast, circling the nipple, holding its weight in his palm. She lets out a little moan and glares at him.

“Yusuke! Can we get back to the point, please?”

He gives her a wolfish grin. “At some point,” he says, nearly in a growl, and leans in to suck and nip at her breast.

“Hey! Yusuke! Come on… Yu… suke…”

He presses her back down to the bed, enjoys the change in shape in her breast. He switches sides.

“Shouldn’t we…”

“Continue?” He lifts his head, meets her eyes, and then gently kisses her. That’s all it takes; the wet, full slide of their lips, the flicker of her tongue at the corner of his mouth, the whimper she makes when he ducks away to suck at a spot under the hinge of her jaw. All it takes for him to _want_ her again, to yearn to see the magic that overcomes her when he touches her. “Do you want to?” he asks. Yusuke pulls away, hand still lingering on her breast. She’s flushed and her eyes are sparkling and her limbs have gone all loose and languid again, but he wants to be sure. They’re still fumbling their way through, still finding the lines that they can and can’t cross. He makes the conscious effort to remove his hands from her skin. “Ann?”

She stirs a little at her name. Her eyes lock with his. Slowly, like the sun rising, she smiles. “I’m never gonna say this again, I swear,” she says, “but it means everything to me that you asked.”

Then she grabs him by his shoulders and flips him over. She sits astride his hips, and with a smug, sexy smirk, she reaches down and cups his quickly rising erection. “Already?” she laughs. She pumps her hand up and down. Then—just once, and his heart is in his throat at the feeling of it, hot and wet and slippery and _good_ —she slides him through her folds, the delicate labia parting over his girth, and she sighs when the head of his dick rubs over her clit. He can see it if he looks down the length of his chest, can see the reddened crown of his cock peeking through between her legs, the sticky-damp-dark curls of her pubic hair just above—

He’s already lunging for the box when Ann demands, “Get another condom, buster. Round two time.”


End file.
